The three started to waddle out of the entrance. This was their chance. With a firm grip on FPS’s arm, Tora made a mad dash for the door. They slid through. It was good timing: the door slammed shut seconds after and the shadow magic wore off seconds before. He let go of FPS as the door shut, and the man hit the floor with an emphatic thud.
Tora stepped over him into the room proper. It looked like a lobby of sorts. There wasn’t any sort of secretary to greet them however—no front desk—just a closed door to the left and right from where they stood, and a couple of massive monitors decorating the back wall. A closer inspection revealed one with a floor map and the other with what looked like work schedules. He couldn’t read them, everything but the numbers in the timetables was written in asuran script. Made both monitors kind’ve useless to him.
“This Rakak—he’s with Inquest,” FPS said in a considered serious tone. He’d gotten off the floor. A glance revealed him to look far more scuffed up than his dramatic posturing suited. With relief, the goofball had returned.
“Yeah, not surprising,” Tora dismissed. It hardly mattered if the guy was or not. They were here to get an amulet and get out. “Couldn’t they label these maps with New Krytan like everyone else?” He sighed.
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